Boiling Point
by ASifFiction
Summary: Watanuki is ordered about by Yuuko with no help from Doumeki, until not just the eggshells are cracking. Desperate - and extremely physical - measures ensue. DouWata oneshot. Yaoi.


Boiling Point

ASifFiction

Watanuki is ordered about by Yuuko with no help from Doumeki, until not just the eggshells are cracking. Desperate (and extremely physical) measures ensue. DouWata oneshot. Yaoi.

**Disclaimer:** Characters property of CLAMP. French language property of the French.

**AN (rant with promise of porn):** I have a quick confession.  
I wrote a much longer AN for this fic, about why there hasn't been sex uploaded for so long.  
I put effort into everything I write (even author's notes have to be funny), but I've enjoyed writing this too much to bring it down with that note.  
If you'd still like to see it, it'll be in my profile. If you're reading this in the future (hello! Have a stale cookie from back in 2010) it may not still be up. If this is the case and you're curious, message me.  
On with the porn!

**AN (regular):** The dessert's name literally means "raspberries whipped without moving", which of course doesn't make much sense, but hey – that's the mystery of the French.

* * *

"Oh, Watanuki! Do hurry up with the food!"

Watanuki froze on the spot. Yuuko had already scoffed several platefuls and bowlfuls, just to get her allotted alcohol for each meal.

He flailed against unjust air.  
"I've worked for five hours non-stop!" He cried. "It's one thing to ask for ingredients that are out of season; but for food that's been unavailable for fifty years?"  
He tugged his hair and groaned. "I'm not a time-traveller, unlike some."

Doumeki looked along the kitchen to the window. "Don't mention that. He wouldn't have wanted us to talk about it."

As though remembering the archer was in the room, Watanuki the tornado swept around, complete with pointing finger to jab at Doumeki's chest. "And you! You've stood in that spot for seven meals, just watching me slave at the grater! You could at least _offer_ to help!"

Doumeki shrugged – the closest he would get to an apology, save "Oi".

"And stop with that face! I swear, if you give me that stupid, wide-eyed look of innocence one more time I will lose it."  
He shoved aside containers and strangled a bag of flour onto the counter. "I'll just have to do without that 50-year-old ingredient. It should taste the same – it just won't have magical powers."

Doumeki brushed flour from his shoulder and looked slowly up at Watanuki.  
He cleared his throat. "What magical powers?"

Watanuki looked back. His jaw slacked with disbelief that Doumeki was bringing this up again.  
Turning to the fridge was the best way to combat the anger that came with looking at the archer's face. "It is _not_, as you always seem to hope," he said, "an aphrodisiac."

He rattled a punnet of raspberries to sift out the largest. "What's with your obsession? I say the starter is cursed, you ask if it's an aphrodisiac. I mention the fishcakes have to be made with tuna caught at noon, you ask if it's an aphrodisiac. I put back a carton of cream and say I can't use it; you ask if it's an aphrodisiac. It was just past its sell-by date, for crying out loud!" He scowled. "Not everything I make is an aphrodisiac, however much your weird mind would like to think otherwise. _Some_ people have other things on their minds."

Yuuko shouted again.

Watanuki groaned and wished he could plug his ears – but he would never lower himself to imitating Doumeki. "For example, making this stupid dish for stupid Yuuko-san."

He felt the archer's stare again. "That's only the 'other' thing on your mind?"

Watanuki gave up trying not to gape at him in exasperation. His mouth babbled silently.

Doumeki smirked. "I assume the main thoughts are, as you said, regarding aphrodisiacs?"

"Shut up, Doumeki!" He slid his hand down his face. "_Les framboises fouetté sans se déplacer._ That of all things," he whimpered. "Bloody temperamental pudding. You tilt it to look in while it sets and it breaks into powder."

Yuuko called out again, and he shuddered to ignore her. "This is going to be impossible to make."  
He paused dramatically. There was silence all round the kitchen.

He glared fireballs at Doumeki. "That was your cue to offer me help."

"What's the use, if it's impossible?"

Watanuki turned bright red and shook.  
He buried his face in the cupboard. "Just for once, she could've asked for a meal that isn't incredibly eccentric. But, no – not only does she want the most difficult dessert in the book; she wants it in the shape of a butterfly." He grunted as he manoeuvred his hand. "It has to be in here somewhere…"  
He jumped backwards with a cry as a flood of utensils fell on his head. Silver butterfly cookie-cutters of all sizes tinkled around the floor. He shook one out of his hair and bent for the second-largest. "Here. It's meant to be a cake tin, but it'll work as a mould." He looked around. "And I still need to swirl dark chocolate into the fondue. Apparently milk chocolate on its own is a 'travesty'."  
He slammed down a bowl and twisted a tap. "One day, Yuuko-san will be the one paying a price for my services. I deserve my revenge." The kettle splashed back at him in protest of the excess water.  
He let his dirtiest glance linger over Doumeki, whom he felt deserved to have to clean that up if nothing else. "Now what are you doing?"

"Watching you."

He tried for a derisive laugh, but it decided half way to change to 'hysterical'. "Don't _watch_! Make! Make anything, if it'll keep her quiet."

"I don't know how," he replied levelly.  
The kettle whistled.

"You don't know how? You eat my food every day but you don't know how to make it? You stand and stare at me while I prepare it but you _still_ don't know how to make it?" The water shrilled. "For heaven's _sake_!" He wrenched the top off the kettle and peered inside.

His eyes shocked open. "It hasn't even boiled!" He shrieked. "Stupid thing is broken. Broken! Shut _up_!" He smacked it to the floor with a wet clatter.

Yuuko's pained voice drifted through. "Watanuki, please keep it down. I have a pounding headache."

"Then why are you asking for more alcohol?" He screamed.

Yuuko chortled. "You're so sour. I want my food within the hour, Watanuki, or it's another five years of debt you're in."

He muttered "Who's sour? The pot or the kettle?"

When he turned back, Doumeki was lounging against the counter.  
"You'd better get on with it," he said.

Watanuki's lips became a murderously thin line.  
His eyes sparked, and when he moved towards Doumeki, his footsteps seemed to set a tremble through the floor.

He reached his hand up to Doumeki's cheek, then curled long fingers down around his collar.

Doumeki's gold eyes blinked from a flushed face.  
Watanuki tugged him down from the humid air of the kitchen onto its warmer floor, and shoved him onto his back.  
Then he pointed his fingers into hooks and ripped open Doumeki's shirt.

Buttons sprayed the kitchen. Doumeki's eyes darted after them.  
"Oi," he said in alarm. "What's gotten into-"

His words were effectively blocked by the shoving of half a meringue nest into his mouth.

Watanuki grabbed his chin and pulled it roughly up towards his face. "Since nothing gets through your thick skull," he snapped, "If I want you to learn anything I'll have to make it right…" He billowed flour onto the archer's muscled chest. "…In front of…" He gathered ingredients on the floor around them. "…Your eyes."

He slammed a mixing bowl atop the archer's skin and straddled him.

Doumeki did not protest.

"Lesson one. This is an egg." He held it up. "Do you know what to do with an egg, Doumeki?"

He made a muffled meringue-sound, then nodded.

"Well, obviously you don't, do you?" He smacked it against the bowl and dug his thumb into the crack. "You just smash it and pull it apart. Easy, isn't it? So you can stop staring at them like they hold the mysteries of the universe."

Next he lifted a bag of sugar and tilted it into the bowl. A few stray granules dived swooning at Doumeki's chest, and half-melted in sweat.  
Watanuki turned to the cream to avoid staring at this phenomenon. He splashed it against the other ingredients, trying very hard not to look Doumeki in the eye. "This is notoriously difficult to time," he said loudly, "so I'll prepare the raspberries now." He lined the plumpest fruit up along Doumeki's breastbone.

Light sprayed off his knife of choice. He poked its tip into the first berry and slid its blade gently down.

Doumeki's head jerked and he bit hard into the meringue. The loose half dangled gormlessly before dropping into the hollow of his neck.  
Watanuki looked up sharply. "I didn't cut you."  
"No," he breathed, with a strange, reverent tone in his voice.

Watanuki continued through the row of red, balancing each half facing down as he finished with it. When there was no space left, he hesitated before placing the last half on Doumeki's nipple.  
The archer's chest was unnaturally still; he was gritting his teeth.

"Now," Watanuki said. He smacked a whisk against his spare palm. "You have to whip it until it's hard."

Doumeki raised his eyebrows. "I'm good at that."

"Shut up." He wiped a smudge of raspberry from his cheek to disguise his blush.  
He whisked the creamy mixture until specks started dotting their faces.

He smirked at the bowl, satisfied with its contents' consistency. "You have to put the fruit in now, so it's suspended in the middle. Otherwise it sinks to the bottom; too late and it won't sink at all."

He collected the berries starting at Doumeki's abs and dotted them into the thick white liquid.

Soon there was just one half left, and the rest of the archer's tanned skin appeared to be covered in translucent love bites. The last raspberry fitted so snugly around his nipple that it seemed a shame to remove it and put it in the bowl - but he plucked it all the same, earning a gulp from Doumeki.

He couldn't move his arm as quickly as he'd wanted; the sound of the archer's swallow had turned the air to syrup.

"Oi."

He balanced the mould on Doumeki's pecs, trying and failing not to stare at the muscles.  
Between ignoring the archer and watching the tantalisingly slow roll of the mixture, he had plenty of time to consider the tingling in his legs. He concluded that the way he was crouching must have been cutting off the blood flow – it was certainly nothing to do with the contact with Doumeki's bare skin.

"Oi."

Nor with the deep vibrations of his voice.

Doumeki stared up at him. "You're getting raspberry stuff on me."  
Hands full, Watanuki swooped to stop the pink stream with his tongue. He licked upwards across Doumeki's chest – the archer gasped and shivered beneath him.

Watanuki's mouth grew damp. He wished he could pretend that the tingle was in his legs, or his stomach; but it blared from his crotch.  
His back stiffened upright and he cleared his throat, nibbling at the sweet residue on the whisk to distract himself from the panic. "It…it should have more cream."

The archer looked up. "May I?"

He tilted it weakly over to Doumeki's lips. Silver curves appeared as his tongue lapped away clouds of white.  
Watanuki closed his mouth to swallow.

"It's good," the archer mumbled through sugar.

They stared at each other with equal parts heat and uncertainty.

Doumeki swallowed the thick mixture. "Now what?"

Watanuki tried to think, but his brain whirred with warmth. All he could worry about was how messy his hair looked, and whether he still had that spot on his cheek. Although, on second thoughts, it was probably obscured by all the furious blushing his face was engaging in.

He combed hot fingertips over his scalp. "Now, we…we wait for it to rise."

A tuft of white hugged Doumeki's lower lip. Its image smothered Watanuki's brain - struggling to fill his lungs was like breathing through whipped cream.

He edged forwards; his chest jutted upwards to form an arch over the food.  
With the slightest hitch of a groan, he sucked away the cream. He gasped when Doumeki licked lightly back; and then he pressed their mouths together.

Food tasted so much better in Doumeki's mouth.

His fingertips twitched against the floor as Doumeki licked along the sensitive taste buds. The archer's sweet tongue harvested whimpers with ease - he felt cries climbing up his throat, getting higher by the octave each time he swallowed them down. He brought one hand inward to curl around Doumeki's waist, and as the two boys sucked more urgently Watanuki realised the tingle had peaked into desperate desire.  
He untangled his heavy mouth.

The light above them trickled shimmers into Doumeki's gold eyes as he slowly lifted them to Watanuki's face.  
"Has it risen?"

"Oh, yeah," he whispered.

For every time the archer had called him an idiot, he had never agreed as much as he did now. Why had he never realised his frustration with Doumeki was because he wanted…this?  
He shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure of the material he was nudging tight and get some air to cool his clammy back.  
Until now he'd tried to confront his mind and been met with _"Hey, I'm just following what's happening down there" _– but now he probed for information on how sex worked with two boys.

He'd read about it before but put it out of his mind, blushing every time. It wasn't the sort of thing people like him did – though he could see how it led on naturally from people like him snapping and stripping a man and pushing him down onto the floor and jumping him.  
He closed his eyes to stop the waves of heat from rushing up and down his spine.

Then he remembered the butterfly watching them.

His tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth and collapsed with his limp jaw.  
The sweet taste turned screamingly bitter. With a hollow horror that he tried to expel as quickly as possible, he said

"We can't move it."

Doumeki had trailed his hand up Watanuki's arm to tug him back down - now he choked to a stop. "What?"

His spine jolted upright. "We can't move it." He panicked among the ingredients; another metallic butterfly skidded across the floor with a screech of fright. "It needs to set – ten minutes or it'll break."  
He slapped at his head. Tiny tufts of flour bloomed in the air. "I should've added more cream. If it's not moist it'll crack. It'll split. Stupid!" He combed past the frown and twisted his hair.

Doumeki stared at him for a moment with a slight gap between his lips. Then he closed it. "Watanuki...if...if it needs...well..." he looked softly down as though to suggest adding a secret ingredient of their own.  
Watanuki's hips moved independently, grinding him against the archer – in return, a leg was raised into his erection. The touch drove him into a gasp.  
"Another five years of Yuuko," he groaned. "I don't think I can stand it."

"You don't have to," he murmured. "I won't move."

"But…"  
With a slight moan, he rubbed himself against Doumeki's thigh. Friction stabbed at his brain, yelling at him to tear off their clothes and maybe use those clothes to tie, or blindfold, or whip. "I want you to…I want you…"

They stared at each other in throbbing agony.  
Watanuki swallowed away whimpers that might have been sobs. He rocked forwards to pull another sugary kiss from Doumeki's damp mouth, as though the moment would stay if he could weld their tongues together. He peeked down at the bulge in the archer's trousers and winced at the electricity it sent through his own.

Then he realised.  
He realised where he was and what was around him.

He turned to glance at the door – still firmly closed – and kissed Doumeki again.  
It wasn't a soft, resigned, 'We can't have sex' kiss, but a searing, starved, 'We're going have sex, damn it," - a moan lurched in Doumeki's throat - 'and it's going to be amazing.'  
Air tore in and out of their mouths.

Even Doumeki's eyelids appeared swollen. "What-"  
Watanuki squashed his lips with a finger. "Don't move," he whispered.

Thanking what little sense he had for taking off Doumeki's shirt earlier, he undid Doumeki's flies and tried to hitch his trousers down his legs. They clung with sweat. He wriggled them down with difficulty; but he was motivated by the sight before him, and almost certain he could see its pulse.

Dizzy, and pushing up on the ground to steady himself, Watanuki shoved the trousers aside. His own clothes occupied several moments, but these passed by in a flash of black and white.

Underwear was the last gate. It was locked with the same key that held the screams inside his mouth. It was so intimate that he heard his shakiest voice ask, "Can - can I…"

At Doumeki's sugar-fuelled nodding he stripped away the last of the thin material, paying with a slow moan. He'd never even looked at an erection.  
Redness engulfed his head. His brain asphyxiated; all he could do was let gravity have its way and rest their naked bodies together.

A voice tugged at his mind. _"Doumeki's hard. He's…he's hard. And so are you. His – he's touching your – you're touching."  
_He groaned aloud. He really couldn't think, because if he_ thought _as well as _touched _then Yuuko's pudding would be a whole lot creamier than she anticipated.  
But it babbled on as steadily as his pulse. _"And it's warm. It's really, really warm. Like bathwater. Only you've never wanted to fuck bathwater."_

Words finally surfaced from Doumeki's mouth. "What are you doing?" His voice was higher than Watanuki had ever heard. "You said I can't…I can't move…"

He locked their lips together and nodded their heads in unison. His lip rolled upwards as he slid himself down to kiss Doumeki's hot neck. "If it's shifted an inch it'll shatter," he mumbled.

"So get up - before I earn you half a decade of labour," he growled back. He stroked at Watanuki's chest again and again, trying to increase the force from his hands into a push.

He could almost see the archer's will draining away. If it were being replaced by precum, the process was definitely visible.  
"Please," Doumeki moaned. "If you don't stop touching me, I'm going to break it."

Watanuki looked down at him with just-parted lips and half-lidded eyes, and teased with his voice. "Give me one good reason why you'd do that."

"A reason?" he breathed with pained disbelief. "You're sitting on it. And believe me-"  
here his groan interrupted him, courtesy of Watanuki changing the position of his thigh.  
He tried to catch his breath. "I'd give it to you given half a chance."

Watanuki smirked.  
His tongue hit the corner of his lip and trailed around full circle. He dragged the cream across the floor and tipped the rest of it into the mixing bowl.  
It splashed up on contact with the drying sugar. Watanuki stirred it into a sticky liquid.

He quickly gave up on the whisk; he dropped it with a clatter and replaced it with his plunging fingers. He dragged through the sweet whiteness, coating his hand. Then he withdrew, shook off one trembling, hanging droplet and raised his fingers to Doumeki's mouth.

The instant Doumeki saw where this was going his lips parted in a breathy moan; Watanuki took this instant to slide himself in.

Lips immediately encased his fingers. Doumeki's tongue folded around him - he began lapping and flicking and twisting, allowing no part of himself to move except his mouth. His gulps pulled Watanuki forwards; his muted moans sent shivers backwards through his body.

Watanuki's forgotten hand twitched into action, roaming blindly for a stray raspberry. He felt damp dimples and tucked his fingers under the fruit.

Now he made the exchange. He withdrew his white-patched, wet left hand. He balanced the berry on the first two fingers of his right hand, and inserted the fingers where Doumeki's mouth still hung open to allow access for incredulous air.  
He rolled the berry onto the archer's tongue.

Watanuki's stomach squeezed with every jerky movement down Doumeki's leg. He stroked around the entrance for a moment, just to watch his touch correlate to Doumeki's twitching. He was so absorbed he didn't notice Doumeki's weak frown grow less weak until he raised his foot enough to kick Watanuki's leg, and he took the hint to hurry up.

The first finger rolled in as though through melting butter. The second stretched the second slide, and Doumeki was already tight around him. He bit his lip and hesitated for a heartbeat too long.  
"Ah…it doesn't matter if it hurts," Doumeki breathed – though his brow was contorted with the pain of the third finger pressing in. "Just…do it…"

Watanuki's free hand slapped the floor. He sucked air through his teeth and dragged it against gravity, then smacked it down again until he found the clatter of the fondue bowl.  
He slicked himself with chocolate and thrust inside.

Doumeki bit hard into the raspberry and forgot to close his lips. Red juice shot out from the split in the fruit, joining the sweat on Watanuki's forehead.  
He could barely move. His pulse was all that made it through the tightness.  
He stroked along Doumeki's thigh, pleading "Just relax."  
"Can't," he yelped.

A bead of juice rolled down Watanuki's face. He looked down as it melted into his eyelashes - for a few blinks Doumeki's tanned skin was tinted pink, his flushed face even pinker. "Doumeki..."

His eyes were closed. He stopped biting his lip to say "If you move, I'll move with you."

Watanuki shook his head through the dizziness. "Here - just put your arms down like this...and...press against the ground and...put your legs back furtheNNG," he panted, stopping when they managed to raise Doumeki's hips.  
It was hardly more practical, and would do little for the dessert, but he breathed "There," to pretend that it was fixed and ready for him to move, because he couldn't wait another second between thrusts.  
He thrusted.

After Doumeki's half-shout he couldn't bring himself to slide out to slide back in - he just flicked his hips once more.  
The other man moaned and tried to lift himself higher.  
Watanuki whispered to him. "Don't...don't move."

The ringing of Doumeki's voice barely made it past his lips. "Then...do it harder..." the floor seemed to crack under his fingernails. "Do it faster..."

Watanuki chewed at his lips and cheeks, not caring if he bit blood. Heat poured off his body, somehow managing to find its place in the stifling kitchen to make it even warmer.  
He flicked again harder, and flicked again faster, and then Doumeki was crying out to him and he had to cut off the friction.

"Watanuki..."  
They looked at each other.  
Part of Watanuki realised they were naked, and that Doumeki Shizuka was whimpering on the floor with a cock buried inside him, and that the cock was his own.  
Then another pulse washed away that part and he had no more room to blush.  
"Watanuki, don't stop." His eyelids were weighted closed. "It doesn't matter how quick - if you...if it's too much, then just let it be too much." He was shuddering all over to control the movement below his waist. "Please."

Watanuki stared down at him.  
He tried to channel all his disbelief and lust into an action; it had him straining forwards to the sound of Doumeki's gasps, until he could dip his tongue into the archer's mouth.  
Then he began thrusting again.

Doumeki's moist hands closed against the floor the way they couldn't squeeze at the man above him. His choking reached a peak each time Watanuki cradled himself as far as he could into the nerves hidden inside him.

Watanuki sat up to rock back and forth faster and to stop his lips from blocking the high, vulnerable, desperate sounds that Doumeki was making.  
The archer's face was brick red. He inched one hand towards his mouth, panting shallowly, and bit into its back to remain conscious.

"Ah..." The seer's neck jolted backwards as far as it would go. Had he opened his eyes, he would only see the faint marks of the ceiling through the steam glued to his glasses.

Fizzing sensations pushed harder at Watanuki's length. He had to use the last weapon in his arsenal to prove that he deserved to be riding Doumeki, to seem like he wasn't careering out of control, wasn't just blindly thrusting. "Shi—"  
Saliva choked him. "Shizuka…"

A single, scorched whimper crawled out from Doumeki's lips, and he used the strength from his last effective breath to send up a wide-eyed look of innocence.

Watanuki lost it.

His head screamed at him what was happening before it hit his skin.

In the space of one orgasmic grunt, relief swelled out of him like steam, flooding Doumeki.  
He felt liquid running down his stomach. He reached for it with a shaking hand, and moaned as it stuck to his finger.

They floundered between gasps and half-words until Watanuki slid loose.  
His entire body seemed to nod as he struggled to support it. He didn't go blind at all, he realised faintly. He could see fireworks of light and colour and he could see them perfectly; but he hardly noticed them when there was that _taste_.

The need to taste Doumeki again was working up his breathing. He crawled across the floor to kiss the archer from the side – Doumeki slid his arm under the other man's chest, reaching for his waist, and Watanuki collapsed onto it.

Afterglow basked in their eyes, along with a lung-tearing disbelief.  
"That…"  
Watanuki's voice made a weak mark on the air, like a tracing. "That was…"  
Doumeki groaned in response. His fingers were stroking at Watanuki's hand, and this sent a new buzz through the tracks of his exhausted body. Butterflies.

His eyelids twitched with effort. _Butterflies_.  
"There was something…"  
He rolled onto his back and let the words float on his damp tongue. "Something I was meant to do…"  
He couldn't find the means to change his expression. His muscles felt like butter. "Something I'm meant to…take care of. To clean up?" That wasn't right. "Something white."

"I could hardly help that," Doumeki said faintly. "But here – I'll use my shirt…"  
His arm stirred under Watanuki to push himself up.

For the second time that day, Doumeki was crushed to the floor by a wild-eyed schoolboy.  
Watanuki sat upright as though his body were a flicked switch. Through the weight of the head rush, he muttered "The butterfly."

He dropped his face back down close to Doumeki's chest, his lips almost touching the raspberry and sugar and cream and chocolate and skin.

He drank in the sight of the butterfly. From wing to antennae was a perfect snowy sweep. Its surface was smooth white; unbroken.  
Air whooshed out of his mouth. "It's a miracle."

"Yeah," Doumeki breathed.  
He rubbed his face to regain circulation and change his expression from 'bewildered' to something more beguiling. He swallowed. "Do you remember the first thing I said to you?"

Watanuki looked dizzily around to find Doumeki's eyes so he could glare at them. "Was it 'oi'?"  
He shook his head. "About miracles."

Watanuki continued to frown, until his eyes popped open and his forehead suddenly released.

He smirked and placed his hand on Doumeki's waist to slide up, slowly up, until he reached the cake tin.

Doumeki took his chance to swallow several more times while the boy placed the butterfly on the counter and melted back to the floor with a crackling sound from his throat.  
Watanuki let his head follow his arm and back in thudding lightly against the tile.

Doumeki moved across, reluctant to let ten seconds pass between kisses, and wiped their skin clean. Then the damp shirt was forgotten, suspended between their stomachs as he pressed them together.  
The kiss grew hotter and groans began to charge again, everything outside the kitchen injudiciously forgotten.

"**Oh,** _Watanukiiiii!"_

"Aaah!"  
Watanuki somehow managed to fall over while lying flat on the floor. "Crap, my glasses…"  
He scowled at the bent frame and scrambled, calling back "I'm coming-"  
He winced at his choice of words. "I'll be out in a-"  
Another cringe; that was no better. "Just wait!" he shouted desperately.

He tried to push himself up. But every time he thought about Doumeki and his muscles and his skin and his tongue and every other part of him, he stopped thinking; and the next time he came to he was back on the floor, mumbling.

"Watanuki?"  
Doumeki's hand was resting lightly on his cheek. "Do you want me to take the butterfly out?"

"If you would," he slurred. Too much blood thumped in his head. It should have been pulsing lower.

"Oh…" Doumeki frowned. "I'll need to get dressed."

"Just for a few seconds."

"My shirt's covered in semen."

Watanuki blinked and blushed. "Oh. Um, wear mine."  
"It won't fit. Don't you think she'll notice?"  
"Just tell her you're too big for your clothes." He stared at Doumeki's crotch. "It's hardly a lie."

Either there was more raspberry juice on his eyelashes or he'd actually made Doumeki blush. The archer quickly turned away. "Should I mix the dark chocolate into the milk chocolate, or drizzle them on separately?"

Watanuki frowned. "I thought you knew nothing about food."  
"After that lesson?" he breathed out. "I just wish I could've taken notes."

Watanuki rolled his head to the side to watch the archer carry the dish to the door.

The man paused as he opened it. Words struggled out of his mouth as an embarrassed mumble. "Thank you."

Watanuki's eyes widened.  
He smiled. "Don't thank me yet. Thank me when you come back."

A grin started up on Doumeki's face. "For seconds," he said. "And thirds and fourths and fifths and sixths, as per our original conversation."

Only extreme horniness could wake Watanuki's exhausted body now, which was why he managed to open his eyes in time to look at Doumeki as he paused half-out the door.

"Oh, and Watanuki?" He smiled shyly. "We had sex on her dessert."  
He flicked dried cream and sugar off his finger and said, "I'd say that counts as revenge."


End file.
